The halls were filled with servants and courtiers in black and dark grays. Draperies were replaced with think black curtains. Flowers were replaced with wreaths of golden leaves. Most people were quiet and kept to themselves. Others never showed themselves. It was morbid, the death of a fair and just queen. Life felt like it slowed down or ended all together.

                 Averin walked down the Great Hall. After the funeral, where the only colors were black, coal, and very very dark gray, he was whisked off to the throne room. Adorned in a black suite and cape, he hurriedly fled to the throne room.  Mora followed closely behind him, her head bowed to the polished marble floor.

             She wore a black and gray velvet dress with a collar that reached her chin and hair that was twisted up and covered by a black veil. The lord stopped at a set of giant wooden doors and slowly pushed them open.

               The room was a vast hall. Once-colorful draperies and carpeting were exchanged for thick black cloth. A portrait of the queen when she was crowned ruler of Terrin was mounted above the throne on the dais, a sheer black veil draped over the canvass. A tear trickled down his cheek as he made his way for the dais, then to the throne.

                 The red cushioning of the throne was replaced with black velvet pillows and veils that draped over the golden wood. He looked out at the servants milling about the throne room. They were hastily exchanging the black for white and gold, readying the castle for his coronation. How awful that Selene wanted it so soon after the funeral. Averin knew that it would be a wonder if the people of Terrin would ever except him. He was, after all, the son of a lord, not a king or queen.

             Mora walked up behind him and placed a hand on her shoulder, her eyed pinned on the portrait of the queen. "I'm sure she was the fairest queen ever know, fairer than my own mother." Averin nodded slowly, dipping his head to his shoulder.

                  "She was like a mother to me. And I a son to her, her only son." The princess rested a cheek on his other shoulder, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace.

           "But I know that you'll make a great king. Greater than anyone, even King King Arthret, could imagine." He turned to the girl, a corner of his mouth tilting up. Her optimism was never-ending. He looked at her head to toe, from her black velvet shoes to her hair twisted in a wreath around her head, ending in a tight bun at the base of her neck. Oh, how Casen would die to see her now.

                        A woman walked up the stairs on the dais and stop before him, she dipped into a low curtsy bowed her head.

           "Your Highness. I am Lady Gordaena, one of Her Majesty's ladies in waiting. I was sent here by the steward to tell you that your father has returned from his trip to Morion. He says he wants to speak with you." Dread slowly filled his veins, freezing him in place. Lord Andrew was back, and his son was going to be made king. Mora shook his shoulder.

              "Averin. Averin! Listen to me." He turned to her, his face blank. His father was back.

              "Yes Mora?"

               "Go to your father, but be careful." He nodded his head and began running down the stairs and made his way toward the door, pushing it open before a servant could. His cape billowed behind his heels as he sauntered down the hall, not at all in a hurry. Servants stopped and bowed as he passed them. Most muttered their condolences.

             Once he reached his father's chamber, a small boy stepped up to him, his head bowed low.

             "Lord Andrew has requested that you go back to your coronation practice." Averin frowned and bent down to be at eye level with the boy. He smirked and patted his head.

                  "I'm going to speak with him anyway." He brushed the boy aside and opened the door, slamming it shut behind him. His father stood against the far wall, playing with a pocket watch that looked to have been made in Morion. The man turned to the door and frowned, crossing his arms.

             "How is life now, knowing that you will be King of Terrin by the end of the night?" Averin kept still but dipped his head.

               "Hello father, it's so nice to see you now that you've returned." His father smirked and spun the watch on its chain. Averin and his father hadn't always seen eye to eye. They had, however, been close all his life. But now, his father must have been the slightest bit jealous, considering the fact her didn't run up to his son as soon as he got back and hugged him the hardest he could, as he did most times.

            Andrew pursed his lips and stepped away from the window beside him, dropping the pocket watch on the bed that stood against the middle of the wall. The man didn't smile, or show the slightest hint of one, as he walked to ward his son. Averin stiffened as his father slowly got closer; he could see light stubble along his jaw, suggesting he hadn't had a decent shave for at least two days.

                 "So, how was your journey back from Riftbay?" Averin could tell that his father didn't really care right now, but her shrugged and stepped forward.

                 "Fine. I came back with the most wonderful girl, Mora Ytgriss. I don't suppose you've heard of her?" Andrew's brows rose in disbelief, but he nodded solemnly.

              "How did the princess of Elder manage to find her way to Adrid? I thought that she had died in Caboset, or at least was still there as a slave." Averin's hackles rose. His father sniffed in amusement and turned back to the window. Snow was beginning to swirl in tiny flakes to the ground, suggesting that winter would be upon them soon. He turned back and grinned.

               "I don't suppose you've proposed to her, after all, you've probably spent the last few weeks together." The young lord shook his head. He had never thought of marrying Mora, though, it did seem like something any future king would do, secure an alliance with a future queen and save her country using the armies of other allied kingdoms. He contemplated it for a moment before looking to the ground, suddenly very interested in his boots.

           "No, but I have been courting her, in a way, if you will." Andrew smirked and strode back over to his son, placing a hand on both shoulders.

                  "Son, I'm proud of you. You've already created a possible alliance and you're not even king yet. That is something any man should be proud of." Averin flushed a gentle red, then turned away, looking at the heavy wooden door that separated him from his freedom.

                   "Thank you, father." He shrugged his hands off and stalked to the door, leaving the lord without saying goodbye.

*****************

           Mora scratched at her sleeve. The velvet of her dress had been itching her ever since she put it on. And her hair! He scalp was still screaming from the way it was twisted on and around her head, ending in a tight knot that was beginning to unravel. But she continued to stand on the dais and wait for Averin to come back.

                 She had been quite overwhelmed the first day in the castle. Since there was an obvious lack of servants in Caboset, she wasn't quite used to them anymore. She was more accustomed to dressing and bathing herself.

                When Averin didn't show up, she politely excused herself and lightly stepped down the dais, making her way for the exit of the throne room. As she hurried down the hall, she bumped into someone and crashed to the floor.

                  "My apologies miss," came a deep voice. She looked up at a man that resembled someone familiar. Her heart skipped a beat as he held out a hand and helped her up. "I am Lord Andrew, and I'm terribly sorry for knocking you down." She shook her head, puzzled.

                     "No, it's not your fault. I wasn't looking." She brushed off her dress and stared the man in the eye. "My name is Mora Ytgriss." Andrew froze and gave her a low bow.

                "You Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you." I'm so sorry for the loss of your parents, Yendin and Yeveena, and your brother Mancrin. May they ever rest in peace." She gestured for him to rise, perplexed by his groveling.

                    "It was a long time ago, I have moved on, but thank you anyway." She really hadn't moved on. Her parents and brother were the nearest and dearest people in her life, until she met Averin, of course. Her heart began to ache from thinking on the dead royals that had once made up her family.

               "Father, who are you talking to." She leaned to the side to see who was speaking. A smiled graced her features as she beheld Averin, now in a white suite with a gold cape that was embroidered with red ivy vines. Andrew turned and smiled lightly.

                "Just the beautiful queen of Elder." She froze mid-step toward the young man. Never had it occurred to her that she was queen. But, since nobody else in her family was alive, it would make her the ruler of Elder. How uncomfortable. She smiled at the lord and strode over to Averin, resting a hand on his shoulder.

               "Well, I don hope your talk with Lord Andrew went well." He nodded and draped an arm around her. Heat stung her cheeks and she looked to the ground. Long, gentle fingers slowly untwisted her hair, sending it falling against her shoulders in gentle curls. Averin squeezed her shoulders, sending a trail of fire down her arms, then backed away and took her arms.

                   "Will you please honor me in a birthday dinner before my coronation tonight?" That was right. In only three hours, her beloved Averin will turn from a lord to a King. She nodded her head and held back a squeal as he pulled her down the hall with him.

*****************

         He relished in the breeze that the cape created as it billowed behind him while he ran. His gaze darted back to Mora, who was constantly blowing a stray hair out of her face. He chuckled and looked forward, coming to an abrupt halt at a marble door to the left of the corridor. He pressed his hands against thew cool surface and pushed lightly, opening the door.

             He lead her into a large chamber with gilded walls, polished marble flooring, and a golden table in the center, draped with a white silk tablecloth. His feet moved toward the table, and his hands pulled out the girl's chair. She thanked him and gracefully sat down. He pushed in her chair and rounded the table, sitting in his own seat.

               Two glasses of red wine were set on either end of the table. He reached forward and grabbed the stem of the glass, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a long sip. Mora did the same, but she kept her glass up, bracing her elbow against the table.

               "To Averin Soltrid, lord of Andia and Orit, and heir to Selene's throne. May your reign be ever prosperous." She reached across the table and clinked the glasses together. Averin smiled and leaned backward as a servant placed a plate of roast chicken and greens in front of him. Another servant sis the same to Mora, then they both backed against a wall and waited for them to finish for the next course.

              After the first course of chicken and greens, they indulged in boar soup, and then frozen cream flavored with chocolate. Averin leaned back in his chair, feeling like a king already. He bolted up in his chair and ran fir the door.

              "Wait, where are you going," called Mora, rising in her chair and slowly pushing it back into the table. Averin turned to her before exiting the room.

                   "My coronation starts in forty-five minutes." He dashed down the hall, dodging servants and courtiers, and hurdled into his chambers. A gold with and white fur cape were laid on the silk sheets of his bed. He sighed and sauntered over to the bed, slowly changing into the suite. He felt kingly; it didn't seem right. Averin wasn't even a prince for a time, how could he rule a kingdom if he never even ruled his family's land? He shook his head, letting the thought diffuse out of his mind. It's what Selene would have wanted, what she did want. His opinions didn't matter. He had no say in this, he was only a lord.

**********************

              Mora spun in the mirror. By now, everyone in the castle had found out that she was Mora Ytgriss, queen of Elder. Although she never had a coronation, she was the only member of the royal family left. And, you had to admit, she sure looked like a queen in that dress.

           The servants had selected a white dress with gold and red accents, the colors of Elder mixed with the colors of Terrin. The dress hugged her bodes and slowly flowed out ward, ending in a long train that trailed behind her on the floor. Silver highlights were embedded on the silk of the dress, forming vines with tiny red flowers on the ends. Her thoughts on the dress: stunning, beautiful, magnificent, and too much for her. It was all too much. But this was Averin's coronation, and she was going to be there to support him.

                Someone knocked on the door, startling her out of her trance. She turned to the door. It was probably the servant come to take her to the coronation. She stepped down from her low stool and walked over to the door, slowly opening it. A woman stood there, waiting for her. This was no servant that would help her throughout the evening. No, this woman was dressed in clothes as fine as hers. She smiled lightly, hoping to diminish an growing awkwardness.

                     "May I help you," she asked the woman, slowly closing the door behind you. The woman smiled kindly and smoothed a pleat in her dress skirt before talking.

            "Hello. I am Catherine Soltrid, Lord Andrew's wife. He requested that you sit with us at the coronation." Surprise crossed Mora's face. So, Lord Andrew liked her enough to invite her to sit with them as their son was made king. She nodded her head and stepped away from the door.  Her dress swished around her heels as she silently followed Catherine down the corridor and into the throne room.

              She held back her gasp of pure awe as she beheld the sight of the throne room. White and gold gossamer fabrics were strung on across the dome ceiling. Lanterns were hanging from gold sconces on the walls, helping the gargantuan crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling illuminate the grand hall.

               Andrew turned from his place among a cluster of lords and smiled, bidding them farewell as he began striding toward the woman. He bowed to Mora, then linked arms with his wife. The girl dipped her head in response.

                   "Queen Mora, would you like to meet my fellow lords of the court," he offered. She shook her head lightly so as not to mess up the delicate curls in her hair.

                  "If it's alright with you, I think I'll just wander about the room. Maybe even meet possible consorts." Andrew's smile fell, but he regained his composure and gave her a terse nod before sauntering off with Catherine. Mora cringed form her own words. She would never marry at her age, least not any of the pompous-looking men of the court that she saw. Plus, the only person she'd consider marrying as of late would be Averin, but only because she needed an army. Her country would always come first.

           She slowly traversed around the outskirts of the crowd of people who had gathered for the coronation. She spotted Lord Matthew and his daughter Nalia among the throng. Her feet lightly carried her toward the lord. His gaze turned to her and a bright smile covered his face. He turned Nalia toward her and held up her arm, making her wave.

        A young woman who had been linked arm-in-arm with the lord turned and attempted a smile. She was beautiful, with dark brown hair that fell in loose curls at her waist, ivory skin, and pewter eyes that were tilted up, making her look like she was smiling, even when she wasn't. Mora stopped in front of the lord and bowed low, gracefully flicking her wrists. A warm chuckle escaped Matthew.

              "Arise, lass, for it is I who should be bowing." He bowed low at the waist and rose with a bright smile. "Julianne, darling, this is Queen Mora Ytgriss of Elder. She arrived here with Averin." The woman smiled, a looked that graced her features tremendously. Mora offered a gentle smile back.

            "You must be Lord Matthew's wife then," she asked kindly.

            "Oh, please call me Matthew, Your Highness," said the lord. She pursed her lips.
"Please, Matthew, call me Mora." The lord smiled and began laughing, but as his gaze met that of his wife's, he cut the warm sound off. Nalia frowned and crossed her arms, ruffling her frilly gold dress.

"What about me," she squealed in earnest. A few men and women turned, but when they saw that it was just a child, then groaned and turned back to their conversations. Matthew chuckled and hoisted her up onto his hip.

"We haven't forgotten about you, Nalia." The little girl smiled and buried her face in her father's suit. Mora cast a sidelong glance at Julianne. The woman was scowling at her; she didn't know why. A loud bell tolled somewhere in the castle, and a priest stood in the center of the dais. everyone turned to the man- all went quiet.

He cleared his throat and began speaking. "We are gathered here today for a momentous occasion, the coronation of Lord Averin Soltrid, the first chosen heir in the history of Terrin..." His words became blurred as Mora's attention focused on the doors. The were drawn wide, and a white and gold figure was walking through and down the isle. Averin.

Her heart pounded at the sight of him. Oh, did he look good. The white and gold accented his pale skin, black hair, and glorious brown eyes. She smiled widely and he passed. She caught his gaze quickly dart to her, then back to the dais ahead of him.

She watched as he stepped onto the dais and paused before the priest. He knelt down on his knees, bowing his head and holding his hands out for the scepter and ornament.

"Averin Andrew Soltrid, do you promise to uphold the laws of your country and guard and protect your people, even with the cost of your life?"

"I do," responded Averin. The priest motioned for him to rise, had him drink the blood of the last ruler from a crystal glass, then placed the scepter and ornament in his hands. He then recited a long hymn in the ancient language of Terrin.

Averin rose and turned to the crowd, his face stoic, void of any expression. He opened his mouth slowly, then began speaking. "I, Averin Soltrid, claim the throne, my throne, of Terrin." The crown burst into a loud applause, started by Mora herself. She smiled brightly and looked toward the dais, then Averin. Their gazes locked and a slow smile spread across his face, warming her heart.

*******************

He couldn't believe it. Although he hadn't wanted it a first, it was as if he was meant to be king. He slowly walked down the dais, listening to his fur cape swishing against the stairs behind him. His eyes darted toward Mora. She was smiling and began pushing through the crowds, politely, of course, and shed stopped at the edge of the isle.

Averin kept his eyes on her as the crowd parted. He made his way toward Mora, his feet gradually picking up speed the closer he got to her. Once he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her and spun in circles. She laughed and tried desperately the keeping her dress from flying up, to no avail.

"Congratulations, King Averin," she spoke in his ear. His heart pounded as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. His hand landed on her back and crumpled the silk of her dress as he tightened his grip. He lowered her to the ground. Many people were smiling, others were glowering in disgust, for some reason he didn't understand. A smile spread from ear to ear as his mother walked toward him.

"Averin," she squealed as she hugged him tighter than Mora ever did. Other women began flocking around them, bringing their daughters to meet the new king in hopes of him choosing one of them as a bride.

"Mother," he sighed, resting a hand on her head before drawing away and smiling down at her. "I'm glad you could make it to my birthday," he said, mirth in his voice. The way all the young women looked at him suggested that he looked like a god. His father walked forward and clapped his shoulder.

"Let us all adjourn to the banquet hall," he said, his voice ringing loud through the throne room. Cheers filled the air as Averin, his family, and Mora made their way out of the room, walking down the corridors and into the celebration hall.

*****************

Averin looked up, releasing a long, hidden sigh as yet another young lady walked up to him, attempting to win his favor and pick her as a bride. How cliche. The girl dipped into the lowest bow that he'd ever seen. She rose and smiled. A too-big smile.

"I am Salara Nide, and may I just say that it is truly an honor that you came to me, Your Highness." He hid his frown with a fake smile. Why in Erilist would he go to a girl other than Mora. They both new that Salara had purposefully run into him. He nodded curtly.

"Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to take tea with me, or perhaps go for a stroll in the gardens sometime?" She pursed her lips, waiting for his response. Averin attempted a light smile, but it turned into a grimace.

"I'm so sorry," he wasn't, "but, since I am now king, I will have a much busier schedule, Miss Salara." The girl frowned, but a light blush crept up her neck.

"Oh, well. I guess I'll be in my way then. Um, congratulations King Averin." She dipped into a curt bow and quickly shuffled away, toward some lonely lord on the outskirts of the throng. Averin sighed in relief and surveyed the people. He caught Mora's eye and a slow grin spread across his face. He growled lightly and started picking his way through the crowd until he sneaked up on the girl and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest.

"I have something special planned for you," hr growled huskily in her ear. She gasped and turned to face him, color high on her cheeks. She grinned devilishly and grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him closer until his forehead was pressed firmly against her. He could feel the heat that coursed through her.

"Only under the starlight." He grinned and gripped her wrist, leading her out of the banquet hall and through the castle. Nobody paid them any heed as they sauntered toward the doors to the garden. He pulled the doors open, lead her into the garden, and pulled her behind a hedge.